


Adrenaline

by ArabellaCastre



Series: The Scarlet Witch [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Domestic Avengers, Hydra (Marvel), Sleep Deprivation, Team as Family, Wanda is the most powerful Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaCastre/pseuds/ArabellaCastre
Summary: “What’s the point in arrows when we have you, kid,” he continued, and Wanda smirked sheepishly at her shoes. “You and Spider boy over here are making me look bad.”Running purely on adrenaline when called to action in the middle of the night, Wanda surprises even herself when she discovers the extents of her abilities.





	Adrenaline

**Author's Note:**

> I still have no idea how this site works, but here’s another one-shot of Powerful Wanda™- if you can’t tell, I really like describing her abilities. This fic is set sometime after civil war, where everyone resolved their problems and moved in the compound. Comment if you liked it, or give recommendations or prompts for future fics, this would be highly appreciated! Thanks for reading x

Wanda awoke abruptly, bolting upright. A piercing shriek reverberated around the tall walls of the compound- a terrible wailing noise that made her head throb. She pawed at her ears in a poor attempt to dispel it, and when she eventually managed to prise open her eyes, she clamped them shut again almost immediately. Lurid, fluorescent light swept across the length of her room: a harsh clinical white that pulsed in time with the siren. With her thoughts rapidly clearing, she mused over the source of the illuminated screeching- a screeching not unlike the sound of Friday’s defence breach signal.....

She untangled herself from her sheets and set about hastily pulling on odd socks and shoes, rifling through her room for a jacket- only now regretting leaving piles of clothes on the floor- and finally, as an afterthought, pulling her hair back out of her face before dashing into the hallway. 

Encountering no-one else in the corridors, she haltered, the realisation dawning upon her that she had no idea where or what she was running towards, half-dressed. “Miss Maximoff,” Friday interrupted; she dictated her words slowly, purposely prolonging her syllables so that Wanda could catch them over the muddle of the alarm and her being half- conscious. “The ground floor gym has been breached. It appears to be a planned attack.”   
“Who is it this time?” Wanda groaned, massaging her temples and switching her hoodie seams to the correct side.   
“My best guess would be Hydra, Miss... they appear to here for you, but are settling for the others at this moment.” At this mention, she felt her magic twist in her veins with indignation.   
“I’m honoured, truly,” she replied, and gathered herself with a deep breath before continuing through the halls. If they wanted her, they could have her. 

As she got closer to the gym, the alarm’s cry grew weaker, and the walls shuddered instead with the monotonous thud of armoured boots on concrete. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to reach Friday down here, Wanda closed her eyes and expanded her magic, searching for a few hostiles and instead discovering an army. Beyond the wall, she discerned a dense mass of life-forms, a swarm of Hydra troopers; she watched as it occasionally flickered before a singular light sputtered out. At least some of the team had managed to make it down here. It was going to be a long night.

She felt the charge broiling under her skin, and stifled a yawn before stepping backwards. She slammed her palms forward, sending ripples of current through heavy barricades Friday had initiated, and charged into the battlefield, arms ablaze.

Upon arrival, the first peculiarity she noted was that the hydra agents did not seem to possess guns. They trickled inside the gym from a gaping hole in the exterior, clad from head to toe in thick black armour. Silvery moonlight spilled from the rupture, and their shiny helmeted heads glistened in the night. She did register then their wide artillery belts, stacked horizontally with unusual vials- upon further inspection, a row of syringes- sloshing a noxious blue liquid as they moved. Therefore the mission was, she presumed, to capture her, un-injured (and most likely, unconscious). At this very moment, their strategy seemed to display swarming each singular avenger in large numbers of soldiers, grasping the chance to hazard jabs with their syringes as soon as the opportunity arose. A few broke away from their groups in a controlled effort to surround her, and she swatted them away. 

Another foot-soldier began their march towards her, so she turned on her heel and strode directly towards them. Obscured by the rim of their helmet and a wide pair of black frames, their emotions were impossible to read. But either because Wanda could leisurely peruse the emotions of any mind if she so desired, or because of the way the agent backed up clumsily when approached, she was almost certain that their eyes widened in fright. Good. She snapped her thumb and middle finger sharply, igniting a small bead of light that sat in her palm. Contorting her other hand, she twisted and locked her fingers, feeding the orb energy and watching it expand. With a nudge, it floated upwards from her fingertips, fizzing and sparking, and she let her pursuer gaze upwards in fascination. Allowing more of the soldiers to close their distance to her, she watched in amusement as they all, without fail, slowed to admire her pyrotechnics display. Deciding that they were taking too long to reach her, she met them in the middle, and in one swift movement, wrenched her palms to either side: the ball of light exploded ferociously. With a tremendous crash, their bodies littered the concrete. Her vision swam as every cell in her body reeled with such a sudden expulsion of energy. 

Pausing for breath, Wanda’s eyes flitted across the room, scanning: she quickly located Steve, who was swamped in a tangle of armoured limbs and tactical gear. She hastened towards him, narrowly darting between fists and heavy boots. “You look as if you could use a hand, Cap,” she half-yelled over the commotion, smirking in spite of the situation. Teasing Steve was always fun. She plucked her first opponent into the air, an insignificant agent identical to any other in his troop, and he wiggled and writhed like an upturned beetle. Discarding him with a flick of her wrist, she brought her right hand forward, seizing three more and wrenching them to the side in a haze of static. She repeated this action with her other hand, feeling the strain of multiple thrashing bodies and tossing them aside. She pushed and pulled and twisted her way through the crowd, until finally she uncovered Steve. Across his forehead, strands of sweaty hair curled in wild directions, and he flicked them away with disdain. She looked down at his fluffy socks, and arrived at the conclusion that Steve had also been fast asleep when the alarms blared. “Thanks,” he grumbled. Rubbing at his eyes and smearing his face with grime, he sauntered off to retrieve his shield. Wanda grinned at the sight of Captain America throwing punches in his pyjamas. “Anytime!” she called out sweetly, wondering how much of this fight (if any at all) he would be able to recall when he properly woke up. 

With the spare second she had managed to steal, she eagerly watched her friends in combat- immersed in their incredible chaos. Across the far side of the room, she caught the unmistakable jets of light cascading from Tony’s metal palms; short bursts illuminating white wires strung haphazardly across the ceiling. She noticed them then- the cocooned agents- arms plastered flat to their sides, dangling from the rafters. Peter swung freely between them, his web shooters askew and his suit twisted as if he had hastily dressed himself in the dark. This, she came to realise, had more than likely- read, definitely- occurred. He hurled webs robotically, snatching up his prey and expanding his web; Wanda made sure to occasionally nudge his shots in a more accurate direction, and whether or not he acknowledged this, he continued unperturbed. 

To her right, she perceived the familiar whistle and subsequent soft thump of arrows meeting exposed flesh. Not much further along from this, she recognised Natasha, artfully dodging said arrows and taking on six men at once. Inexplicably, their abrupt call to action had not fazed the woman in the slightest: she was, very impressively, fully dressed in sleek armour and completely stocked with weapons. She blocked a slash (So, the agents had knives too, Wanda noted,) and dropped to the floor, putting all her weight behind her boots and then lashing out at shins. She attacked with skill, and grace, and patience, and their clumsy defences never stood a chance. 

And although Hydra’s weaponless foot-soldiers never stood a chance engaging in hand to hand combat against the Black Widow, they were prepared for a long haul. Wanda knew it wouldn’t be long before they abandoned their current strategy and sent in the artillery. Collectively, the avengers were exhausted- most, herself included, were sloppily half dressed, having been torn from deep sleep when the alarm sounded, and consequently, they were extremely ill equipped to battle Hydra. And so, when a fresh squadron of soldiers marched through the door, Wanda knew they were in trouble, even before she saw their guns...

Bullets, on the best of days, were incredibly hard to defend oneself against (unless you were a spider kid with a sixth sense, a telekinetic energy thrower, or a man in a metal suit- and still they caused an array of problems). Natasha, although her suit could absorb the impact of most projectiles, could not survive a shot at point-blank range, or a well-aimed bullet to the head. Clint and Sam, who she suspected were still in their pyjamas, were in exponentially more danger still. The same applied to Steve; although, she supposed, he did have some sort of healing factor if it came to that. And as Hydra’s second most coveted run-away, Bucky didn’t stand much chance by blocking pellets with his arm- he was guaranteed an army of marksmen surrounding him. She couldn’t even rely on Spider-Man to dance around bullets tonight, his half-awake state made his reflexes and responses sluggish. And so, with the entry of these new men, a huge problem arose. 

One by one, she watched the others come to this same conclusion. 

They backed into the centre of the room, those who possessed them raising their weapons as they did so, agents encircling them in the middle of the gym. No question about it- they were trapped. 

“Well fellas, long time no see,” Tony called out, enforcing his sarcastic charade. The room was unnervingly still, unmoving. Peter stepped forwards beside him,   
“Hey, we actually haven’t met before, I’m-“ Every single agent in the room cocked their firearm and trained it on his face. “Wow tough crowd, I get it...” He sank back into place painstakingly slowly, his arms held up in defeat.   
“No games.” demanded a gravelly voice, one that she struggled to locate in this circle of identical troopers. “We came for the witch. Hand her over, or we shoot you all and take her anyway.”   
“Straight to the point, I like it,” Clint hollered, “Problem is, we have backup.” Wanda knew this was a bluff: the government weren’t exactly willing to rush to their aid nowadays. Even if Tony had managed to alert Rhodes, there wasn’t much he would be able to do. Whether or not Hydra had figured this out, she didn’t know.   
“No, you don’t.” Oh dear. “Do I have to count down for you? Longing...” As Wanda comprehended his Russian, Bucky began to tremble uncontrollably. Realisation dawned on the rest of the team, who looked as equally horrified as she felt. “Rusted...”   
“Stop,” the man growled, his jaw locked.   
“Seventeen...” Every muscle in the super soldiers body went rigid as he strained to keep control of his own person. Wanda knew immediately that she was going to have to turn herself over; it was only a question of how to execute this. She couldn’t bear to watch Bucky be tortured like this, only months after he had seemed to let down his guard. He had finally seemed to grasp some stability in his life, and she’d be damned if she let them rip it from under him. ”Daybreak..” Steve launched himself at the speaker, and Wanda felt the air pressure shift as countless triggers were squeezed. So much for her plan.

Her knuckles whitened as she balled her fists, drawing energy from the length of her body and the sharp ozone in the air, feeling the charge accumulate at her fingertips. All the warmth in her blood seeped away- a remarkable feeling- and she allowed herself a fraction of a second to dwell on it before centring her attention on the energy she had gathered. Leaving it to crackle and seethe for only a moment, she fed it her last ebbs of power and then brought her fists tightly to her chest to gain momentum. Her magic spasmed dangerously at this movement; stray forks jerked outwards in tendrils of blinding light. Wanda steadied herself. Straining against the immense tension bound at her fists, she closed her eyes, locking her legs and bracing herself for the recoil. She sensed the bitter life forms around her and watched them quiver, differentiating them with a mental flick of her hand from the warm glow of Peter with Tony and Natasha and the boys and Pepper in the safe-room only a few levels away and-

The triggers clicked and Wanda sent spears of crimson in every direction.

The world resumed around her in an explosion of noise: Natasha fired her own pistols, Tony’s repulser shrieked as it burst into a stream of blue electricity and Cap’s shield streamed past her face in a blur of shiny metal. The soldiers’ bullets diverted at extreme angles, lodging themselves in the floor and the ceiling. After a brief moment of confusion, the team turned to face Wanda, eyes huge and mouths agape. 

They hung there, eighty or so agents, suspended in the air by gleaming scarlet knives. Their legs and arms dangled helplessly at their sides, and their heads lolled forward like puppets whose strings had been snipped. If it were not for the dark blood spilling from the place where their hearts used to be, they would look almost peaceful. Peaceful and dead. 

The team stood in silence in the middle of Wanda’s web, eyes flickering over the madly strung circle of corpses surrounding them.   
“Wanda?” Natasha spoke quietly and evenly.  
“Mm?”   
“Look at me.”  
She turned her head gradually, having to muster all her strength to do so. Her vision faded in and out with this tiny exertion, yet she did not miss how the other woman struggled to regain her composure for a split second when their eyes met. She regarded Natasha’s visible internal struggle, before she settled on a frown. She didn’t blame her, of course. Her eyes were probably red. They felt red. 

Natasha scanned the rest of her friends body for injuries, scrutinising every inch. For this, distantly, Wanda felt enormous gratitude- she doubted she’d notice them herself in this state, fleeting in and out of consciousness. Filtering through the fog in her mind, she made out the assassin completing her examination, her eyes lingering briefly somewhere beneath Wanda’s chin. She consciously shifted her attention back to her face, once again radiating concern at whatever she found there. 

Her eyes smouldered, just as she’d suspected, a brilliant burning crimson. A crimson that jarred against the complete absence of colour in her skin. 

“Put them down, Wanda.”  
She blinked slowly, fighting to comprehend this small action, and looked down at her hands. In front of her, her arms were stretched completely, palms splayed, streams of energy flowing outwards. With an incredible effort, she curled her trembling fingers once more. Instantly, she felt her magic retract. The splinters, once solid looking and sharp, dissipated into shimmering charge. The bodies they had pierced hit the floor with a sickening crack of bones, and she gasped as warmth flooded her senses. 

Magic poured into Wanda, her tiny frame vibrating as she regained the familiar thrum of power in her blood. Visibly, her veins glowed as newly returned energy flowed through them- she felt it purr with satisfaction at being called back. She felt the heat wash over her chest, felt the tingle in her toes as it trickled down her legs. Shivered when the initial shock had worn off, and she felt the cool night air on her face. She opened her eyes, and observed her vision adjusting. 

“That,” Peter uttered, bearing a huge grin that crinkled the corner of his eyes , “Was awesome.”   
“Agreed,” Tony exclaimed, expression mirroring that of the elated teenage boy at his side. He had, at some point, released himself from the suit, and had tucked Peter under his arm. A display most impressive, considering how small the man was. If Wanda had restored enough expendable energy to blush at this praise, she would’ve.   
“I’ve been working on it I guess, she murmured, suddenly very interested in the speckles of blood littering her shoes.   
“Well that’s it, I’m retiring- officially this time,” Clint exclaimed, letting his bow clatter to the floor. Everyone’s eyes darted to the noise, wound highly with the residual tension and adrenaline of the fight. “What’s the point in arrows when we have you, kid,” he continued, and Wanda smirked sheepishly at her shoes. “You and Spider boy over here are making me look bad.” She suppressed a giggle as the younger boy squirmed, scratching his neck and subconsciously shielding himself behind Tony. “I mean, I’m not even sure he was awake for half of that,“ Clint continued, gesturing upwards. Wanda was thankful for the distraction. Mass murder really did take its toll...

”Come on,” yawned Steve, an arm slung around Bucky- Bucky, who normally so reserved was clinging desperately to his friend. Despite this, he flashed Wanda a rare smile, fascinated by her display. “Let’s go. ” 

They walked closely together in comfortable silence, replaying the events of the last hour. Somehow, Wanda didn’t think that anyone would be going back to bed. Tony spoke up finally, “And Clint, if there’s no point in having you around anymore... why on earth is Sam still here?” The mechanic was shoved playfully , and Wanda couldn’t help but grin again. Because she could never replace Pietro, but for the first time, she was happy. She had found her family.


End file.
